Two Trips to Gorilla Land and
the Cataracts of the Congo

Preface.

The notes which form the ground-work of these volumes have long
been kept in the obscurity of manuscript: my studies of South
America, of Syria and Palestine, of Iceland, and of Istria, left me
scant time for the labour of preparation. Leisure and opportunity
have now offered themselves, and I avail myself of them in the hope
that the publication will be found useful to more than one class of
readers. The many who take an interest in the life of barbarous
peoples may not be displeased to hear more about the Fán; and the
few who would try a fall with Mister Gorilla can learn from me how
to equip themselves, whence to set out and whither to go for the
best chance. Travelling with M. Paul B. du Chaillu’s
“First Expedition” in my hand, I jealously looked into
every statement, and his numerous friends will be pleased to see
how many of his assertions are confirmed by my experience.

The second part is devoted to the Nzadi or lower Congo River,
from the mouth to the Yellala or main rapids, the gate by which the
mighty stream, emerging from the plateau of Inner Africa, goes to
its long home, the Atlantic. Some time must elapse before the
second expedition, which left Ambriz early in 1873, under
Lieutenant Grandy, R. N., can submit its labours to the public:
meanwhile these pages will, I trust, form a suitable introduction
to the gallant explorer’s travel in the interior. It would be
preposterous to publish descriptions of any European country from
information gathered ten years ago. But Africa moves slowly, and
thus we see that the results of an Abyssinian journey (M. Antoine
d’Abbadie’s “Géodésic d’Ethiopie,”
which took place about 1845, are not considered obsolete in
1873.

After a languid conviction during the last half century of
owning some ground upon the West Coast of Africa, England has been
rudely aroused by a little war which will have large consequences.
The causes that led to the “Ashantee Campaign,” a negro
copy of the negroid Abyssinian, may be broadly laid down as general
incuriousness, local mismanagement, and the operation of
unprincipled journalism.

It is not a little amusing to hear the complaints of the public
that plain truth about the African has not been told. I could cite
more than one name that has done so. But what was the result? We
were all soundly abused by the negrophile; the multitude cared
little about reading “unpopular opinions;” and then,
when the fulness of time came, it turned upon us, and rent us, and
asked why we had not spoken freely concerning Ashanti and Fanti,
and all the herd. My “Wanderings in West Africa” is a
case in point: so little has it been read, that a President of the
Royal Geographical Society (African section of the Society of Arts
Journal, Feb. 6, 1874) could state, “If Fantees are cowardly
and lazy, Krumen are brave;” the latter being the most
notorious poltroons on the West African seaboard.

The hostilities on the Gold Coast might have been averted with
honour to ourselves at any time between 1863 and 1870, by a
Colonial Office mission and a couple of thousand pounds. I need
hardly say what has been the case now. The first steps were taken
with needless disasters, and the effect has been far different from
what we intended or what was advisable. For a score of years we
(travellers) have been advising the English statesman not to
despise the cunning of barbarous tribes, never to attempt finessing
with Asiatic or African; to treat these races with perfect
sincerity and truthfulness. I have insisted, and it is now seen
with what reason, that every attempt at deception, at asserting the
“thing which is not,” will presently meet with the
reward it deserves. I can only regret that my counsels have not
made themselves heard.

Yet this ignoble war between barbarous tribes whom it has long
been the fashion to pet, this poor scuffle between the breechloader
and the Birmingham trade musket, may yet in one sense do good. It
must perforce draw public attention to the West Coast of Africa,
and raise the question, “What shall we do with it?” My
humble opinion, expressed early in 1865 to the Right Honourable Mr.
Adderley, has ever been this. If we are determined not to follow
the example of the French, the Dutch, the Portuguese, and the
Spaniards, and not to use the country as a convict station,
resolving to consume, as it were, our crime at home, we should also
resolve to retain only a few ports and forts, without territory, at
points commanding commerce, after the fashion of the Lusitanians in
the old heroic days. The export slave-trade is now dead and buried;
the want of demand must prevent its revival; and free emigration
has yet to be created. As Mr. Bright rightly teaches, strong places
and garrisons are not necessary to foster trade and to promote the
success of missions. The best proof on the West African Coast is to
be found in the so-called Oil Rivers, where we have never held a
mile of ground, and where our commerce prospers most. The great
“Tribune” will forgive my agreeing in opinion with him
when he finds that we differ upon one most important point. It is
the merchant, not the garrison, that causes African wars. If the
home authorities would avoid a campaign, let them commit their
difficulty to a soldier, not to a civilian.

The chronic discontent of the so-called “civilized”
African, the contempt of the rulers if not of the rule, and the
bitter hatred between the three races, white, black, and
black-white, fomented by many an unprincipled print, which fills
its pocket with coin of cant and Christian charity, will end in
even greater scandals than the last disreputable war. If the
damnosa licentia be not suppressed—and where are the strong
hands to suppress it?—we may expect to see the scenes of
Jamaica revived with improvements at Sierra Leone. However
unwilling I am to cut off any part of our great and extended
empire, to renew anywhere, even in Africa, the process of
dismemberment—the policy which cast off Corfu—it is
evident to me that English occupation of the West African Coast has
but slightly forwarded the cause of humanity, and that upon the
whole it has proved a remarkable failure.

We can be wise in time.

Richard F. Burton.

P.S.—Since these pages were written, a name which
frequently occurs in them has become a memory to his
friends—I allude to W. Winwood Reade, and I deplore his loss.
The highest type of Englishman, brave and fearless as he was gentle
and loving, his short life of thirty-seven years shows how much may
be done by the honest, thorough worker. He had emphatically the
courage of his opinions, and he towered a cubit above the crowd by
telling not only the truth, as most of us do, but the whole truth,
which so few can afford to do. His personal courage in battle
during the Ashanti campaign, where the author of “Savage
Africa” became correspondent of the “Times,” is a
matter of history. His noble candour in publishing the
“Martyrdom of Man” is an example and a model to us who
survive him. And he died calmly and courageously as he lived, died
in harness, died as he had resolved to die, like the good and
gallant gentleman of ancient lineage that he was.